said in a meek voice I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, Mama, and di chicken too,” Glory added hastily.
“Uh-huh.” Mama nodded.
We got through the dinner with a bit of small talk. Sid and Glory left shortly after to visit some friends. I washed the dishes and emptied the garbage, then settled with Mama in front of the television.
“Ah wonder what dat bitch have up her sleeve now?” Mama huffed. “When dem see yuh strong, dem try everything fi bring yuh down.”
“But, Mama, mi don’t think she mean anything bad,” I said.
“Yuh don’t know de likes of people, for life nuh half tek wid yuh yet. It long and yuh have ‘nuff fi learn. And mi know dis one is a bitch pon wheels, mark my word,” she countered.
I said nothing after that, and then Mama got up and switched the channel to a variety show. We sat and watched the program in silence.
Mama and I spent a lot of time together during the summer, and our talk almost always went back to our old street, the Ritz Theatre, Sophia Loren, our flower beds, Grand-aunt Ruth’s restaurant. We missed our home and our freedom. Perhaps I missed it even more than Mama because I longed for my crowd, for Punsie, Junior, the others on the street and even Petal.
On Sunday we went to Aunt Val and Uncle Peppie’s for supper. Our first surprise was seeing Uncle Freddie and Joanne there. Since the quarrel at our apartment, they hadn’t come around or even called, but neither Glory nor Sid seemed surprised to see them. Mama carried her anger well, at least in front of Aunt Val and the others. She greeted them politely. Freddie kissed her as if nothing had happened. Joanne couldn’t look Mama in the eye.
Aunt Val cooked much the same food as Mama: fried chicken, rice and peas, a green salad instead of coleslaw, plus a mixed-vegetable dish, potato salad and a macaroni-and-cheese dish. That was the first time I’d ever eaten macaroni and cheese, and it was delicious. Aunt Val had also made a pineapple upside-down cake for dessert, along with a fruit salad. The food was good and we enjoyed it. Glory praised the variety of dishes. Sid, like me, loved the macaroni and cheese, and under the circumstances Mama had to say something complimentary. But she didn’t fool me; I knew her words didn’t come from the heart. Even I could see that by preparingso many different dishes, Aunt Val was trying to show what a good cook she was.
We stayed much longer than Mama cared to, but since everyone else was comfortable, it would have been rude for her to insist we leave. Uncle Freddie played the perfect son, encouraging her to touch Joanne’s belly. “Mama, come feel yuh next grandson, is like him can’t wait to come out and see life.” Mama didn’t; instead she lit a cigarette, pulled hard on it and said, “Ah hope de little one have a stable life and grow up to know him father,” she said. Then she turned her full attention to Joanne, asking, “When is due date?”
Aunt Val and my grandmother played a kind of tug-of-war. Mama was clearly satisfied with keeping a polite distance, but Aunt Val was pushing to be the perfect daughter-in-law.
“Mama, did you like the dinner? I hope you enjoyed the rice and peas and chicken, even though that is your specialty.” Mama nodded and a smile appeared on her face. It might have been genuine, but I remembered her calling Aunt Val a bitch.
“Did you enjoy the macaroni and cheese? That’s Peppie’s favourite,” Aunt Val pressed on.
“Mi never care too much for it, too dry. Dem things suppose to be moist wid ’nuff cheese and milk,” Mama said. My aunt’s smile dropped. Uncle Peppie got up from his seat in the living room and headed for the steps to the basement, and Sid and Freddie followed. There was a second-hand couch, stereo, a television and a bar my uncle had built down there.
Mama got up to use the bathroom, and I refilled juice glasses and asked the others if they wanted another slice ofcake. When I helped myself to a little
“Yes, Mama, and di chicken too,” Glory added hastily.
“Uh-huh.” Mama nodded.
We got through the dinner with a bit of small talk. Sid and Glory left shortly after to visit some friends. I washed the dishes and emptied the garbage, then settled with Mama in front of the television.
“Ah wonder what dat bitch have up her sleeve now?” Mama huffed. “When dem see yuh strong, dem try everything fi bring yuh down.”
“But, Mama, mi don’t think she mean anything bad,” I said.
“Yuh don’t know de likes of people, for life nuh half tek wid yuh yet. It long and yuh have ‘nuff fi learn. And mi know dis one is a bitch pon wheels, mark my word,” she countered.
I said nothing after that, and then Mama got up and switched the channel to a variety show. We sat and watched the program in silence.
Mama and I spent a lot of time together during the summer, and our talk almost always went back to our old street, the Ritz Theatre, Sophia Loren, our flower beds, Grand-aunt Ruth’s restaurant. We missed our home and our freedom. Perhaps I missed it even more than Mama because I longed for my crowd, for Punsie, Junior, the others on the street and even Petal.
On Sunday we went to Aunt Val and Uncle Peppie’s for supper. Our first surprise was seeing Uncle Freddie and Joanne there. Since the quarrel at our apartment, they hadn’t come around or even called, but neither Glory nor Sid seemed surprised to see them. Mama carried her anger well, at least in front of Aunt Val and the others. She greeted them politely. Freddie kissed her as if nothing had happened. Joanne couldn’t look Mama in the eye.
Aunt Val cooked much the same food as Mama: fried chicken, rice and peas, a green salad instead of coleslaw, plus a mixed-vegetable dish, potato salad and a macaroni-and-cheese dish. That was the first time I’d ever eaten macaroni and cheese, and it was delicious. Aunt Val had also made a pineapple upside-down cake for dessert, along with a fruit salad. The food was good and we enjoyed it. Glory praised the variety of dishes. Sid, like me, loved the macaroni and cheese, and under the circumstances Mama had to say something complimentary. But she didn’t fool me; I knew her words didn’t come from the heart. Even I could see that by preparingso many different dishes, Aunt Val was trying to show what a good cook she was.
We stayed much longer than Mama cared to, but since everyone else was comfortable, it would have been rude for her to insist we leave. Uncle Freddie played the perfect son, encouraging her to touch Joanne’s belly. “Mama, come feel yuh next grandson, is like him can’t wait to come out and see life.” Mama didn’t; instead she lit a cigarette, pulled hard on it and said, “Ah hope de little one have a stable life and grow up to know him father,” she said. Then she turned her full attention to Joanne, asking, “When is due date?”
Aunt Val and my grandmother played a kind of tug-of-war. Mama was clearly satisfied with keeping a polite distance, but Aunt Val was pushing to be the perfect daughter-in-law.
“Mama, did you like the dinner? I hope you enjoyed the rice and peas and chicken, even though that is your specialty.” Mama nodded and a smile appeared on her face. It might have been genuine, but I remembered her calling Aunt Val a bitch.
“Did you enjoy the macaroni and cheese? That’s Peppie’s favourite,” Aunt Val pressed on.
“Mi never care too much for it, too dry. Dem things suppose to be moist wid ’nuff cheese and milk,” Mama said. My aunt’s smile dropped. Uncle Peppie got up from his seat in the living room and headed for the steps to the basement, and Sid and Freddie followed. There was a second-hand couch, stereo, a television and a bar my uncle had built down there.
Mama got up to use the bathroom, and I refilled juice glasses and asked the others if they wanted another slice ofcake. When I helped myself to a little
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